5 Percent Secrets
by ZemyxDexion
Summary: "You do know," he stated calmly, "That secrets are not something I appreciate, John, unless they are absolutely necessary." John/Sherlock slash.


**A short fanfiction about my new obsession, because I simply can't get enough of this stuff. 'Nuff said. Pure unfiltered concentrated unadulterated beautiful sappy fluff, written because you can never have too much fluff. Something short for when you need a quick read. I don't own anything, sadly, but a love for Sherlock's neck. THAT NECK. Also, I apologize if any or all of the characters seem OOC. I tried, but John was a lot harder for me to write than expected.**

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><p><strong><span>5% Secrets<span>**

"You do know," he stated calmly, "That secrets are not something I appreciate, John, unless they are absolutely necessary. You want me."

John choked on his tea and hastily spluttered a reply.

"Wha-What the hell are you talking about, Sherlock?" An expression of confusion was painted across his face, but John was a rubbish liar and they both knew it. The expression of embarrassment and anxiousness underneath the thin veil of confusion didn't fool Sherlock, and even if it was good enough to trick one as genius as he, the facts had already been laid out beforehand.

Sherlock leaned back on the sofa, steepling his fingers and rolling his head back to reveal the long, pale, tempting neck that could only belong to the lithe consulting detective.

"You cannot deny it. Allow me to list the facts, John." Sherlock spoke, accentuating each statement with a tap of his fingers.

"When I'm within a 3.5 meter radius your pupils dilate. Your breathing gets heavier within a 2.4 meter radius, and any time I touch you your pulse quickens to the point where I can practically see it beating in your chest. You stumble over any questions you pose to me, and any insinuations ever made by me, with me, or about me turn your cheeks and the tips of your ears a lovely shade of red.

"The same reactions occur when I'm shirtless, just woke up, just emerged from the shower, or am on a motorcycle. Along with your tendencies to stare at me or my neck when it's visible, as you are doing now-" John flushed and diverted his attention back to Sherlock's face "- The facts are obvious and staring me in the face."

John stared aghast at Sherlock, eyes wide as words stumbled across his tongue in an attempt to formulate a reply.

"I- I- You- It's— Wh-When did you even notice that?" was the final sentence that popped out of John's mouth.

The genius closed his eyes, speaking in his soft voice.

"This morning. I woke up and when I came downstairs for tea, you had the complexion of a tomato for no reason whatsoever. I made some more observations and came to a reasonable conclusion. I'm not an idiot when it comes to the workings of the heart. But this is all beside the point."

"You just told me that I love you! I don't think it's beside the point, is it?"

"Correction: that you want me, not that you love me. Not exactly beside the point but unnecessary information. It's not what we currently need to discuss. There are many qualities I appreciate, but being a hypocrite isn't one of them. Thus the need for me to communicate, or I myself will become one, which is never pleasant."

Sherlock folded his lean body upwards, pulling all lanky 6 feet of Sherlock into a sitting position as he stared directly at John.

"I told you that secrets are not something I appreciate. There is a very large chance that I harbor unfortunately strong emotional feelings towards you. The chances of those being returned today are 90%, next week approximately 40%, and one month…"

John leaned forward. "One month what?"

"…One month 5%. Physical attraction is common, John, it doesn't have to last forever. In fact, the chance of them lasting forever is very slim, short term crushes are much more common." Sherlock informed him matter-of-factly, his fingers drumming a pattern into the sofa where they were splayed.

John looked like he wanted to say something, but he opened his mouth and no words came out. An awkward silence stretched between the two, filling the air with a stagnant feel until Sherlock stood up and adjusted his suit, professional as ever, and walked out.

"Just thought you might want to know. I'm going to get some more milk," Sherlock called over his shoulder as he paced down the stairs, leaving John alone in the apartment to clear his thoughts as he went outside and didn't really get any milk at all because he's Sherlock bloody Holmes and he would never.

When Sherlock returned from his supposed shopping spree empty-handed, John was in the same position that he had been when Sherlock left- sitting at the kitchen table in the space between the mold experiment and the Petri dishes filled with blood, a mug of tea sitting on the table and a blank expression on his face.

Sherlock stood in the doorway, watching the solitary figure sitting at the cluttered table to do something, _anything_, and he stood there for a good long while, until John noticed him. And John stood up and padded over to him, and he looked up all 6 lanky feet of Sherlock bloody Holmes to his eyes that shifted like liquid smoke and spoke quietly.

"You deducted well, Sherlock, very well. I mean, you missed all the important bits, but you did very well indeed. What you didn't notice is this.

"You didn't see how tingles run up my spine when you call my name, how adorable you look when you fall asleep on your science experiments – don't interrupt me, it_ has_ happened – how I smile when you pull me along on one of your cases looking like an excited child with your flush cheeks and grin all the way up to your smooth cheekbones that accentuate your pretty face that I just want to kiss, how I just want to kiss you and cuddle you and be with you in an entirely different way, and so help me, I think I'm in love with you, Sherlock bloody Holmes."

And a very large grin split across the face of said Sherlock bloody Holmes, and he pulled John up into one spectacular kiss, and neither of them knew quite what they were doing, but the sparks were flying and when they broke apart, cheeks flushed pink (it was a beautiful contrast against Sherlock's pale skin) and eyes shining, (it made John's big brown doe eyes even more lovable) they did the only thing that they could – they laughed. They chuckled and giggled and hugged each other and then they kissed some more, and they were both swept up into a big giggly grinning mess that was really quite unlike both of them, and they grinned some more and kissed some more and slowly gravitated towards a bedroom where the giggling stopped and the moaning commenced and they didn't emerge for quite some time.

_Fin_


End file.
